


The Handwriting of God (is Such a Pretentious Name for This Fic)

by NotQuiteSFWAnymore (NotQuiteHumanAnymore)



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Agent Five AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apocalypse What Apocalypse, F/M, Five is immediately stolen by the Handler, Handler as Five's Mom, Pseudo-Incest, Secret Identity, five tries to stop the apocalypse with his dick, this might become a bigger thing idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 13:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20408575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotQuiteHumanAnymore/pseuds/NotQuiteSFWAnymore
Summary: Reginald Hargreeves went out and purchased seven children. This is how the story goes. But Reginald Hargreeves is a man whose life is quantified in profit margins and sound investments. When a woman with a cold smile and shoes he was almost certain had knives instead of heels stopped him as he came outside with baby number five in tow, he did the math. Weighed her offer over the promise of fame the baby would bring, noted the concealed weapon in her handbag, and gave her the baby instead.He couldn't make money off the other six if he was dead, after all. And baby number five would never know what he had done.





	The Handwriting of God (is Such a Pretentious Name for This Fic)

**Author's Note:**

> I am tempted to make this a full-fledged AU, but then again that's my constant state of being.   
Posting this for Fiveya Week Day 1: Apocalypse!

Sleeping with Vanya had never been part of the mission briefing. If she ever found out, Agent Five was certain Mother would be horrified that he let himself get so entrenched in this woman that when she offered, not only could he not say no, he didn't _want_ to. He'd spent so much of his life without wanting anything at all that this was a new sensation. His world had been reoriented around Vanya, and he didn't know how to disentangle himself from her. He knew his mission: cause the apocalypse, let the world rebuild itself, blah blah blah. But he'd been sneaking back into Headquarters at all hours of the night, scouring files and notes and mission briefings leading up to this moment, and he finally had an answer. If he succeeded (and he had to succeed, failure was not an option), Vanya would die. This was only the second time he'd been deployed on a mission that didn't involve murdering someone outright. While the first mission had gone off without a hitch, this... hadn't. Vanya had gotten to him, with her shy smiles and her quiet melancholy and the bitterness that she didn't allow herself to feel. 

Five wasn't sure how he was supposed to make her end the world if he was busy falling in love with her. But he knew that if he let her die without making her feel loved even once, he would regret it for however long Mother let him live. 

He'd shown up at her shabby apartment, let himself in to find that she was wearing nearly nothing at all, curled up in a pair of silk sleep shorts and a camisole so sheer he could see that she wasn't wearing a bra on underneath it. He might have been trained to be the greatest assassin the timeline had ever seen, he might have had the blood of thousands on his hands, and she might be destined to die in three days, but he was only a man, when push came to shove. And he was a man who had fallen superbly, irrevocably in love. In the morning he'd continue the mission, he'd steal her medication, start turning her into the weapon Mother needed, but tonight she just looked up at him, confusion written on her face and then smiled when she saw that it was him. 

"It was open," he croaked, "I don't mean to intrude..." Vanya closed her book, set it aside and came to him. She crossed her arms across her chest self-consciously. He wasn't going to stare at the way the movement bunched up the fabric of her camisole, sliding it up slightly to reveal a strip of skin above her shorts, but he noted it, filed it away, and tried not to show any outward sign of what she had done to him. 

"I wasn't sure if you'd gotten my call," She replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She was close enough now that he had to duck his head slightly to meet her eyes. He hadn't gotten her call, hadn't known the old phone in his fake apartment base even worked enough to _be_ called, but clearly that didn't matter. Vanya had told him. She'd wanted him to come. 

"Is everything okay?" he asked, not quite sure how to navigate these waters, not sure how to cross the pool of sheer, unadulterated want pooling inside of him. He was no stranger to sex, but this was new.

Everything was new, with Vanya. 

She'd be crushed if she ever found out he was hired to manipulate her.

He'd die before he let that happen. With the way her eyes were alight with nerves and mischief right now, he'd die before he'd let any of his family get to her. He was strong enough to look a man in the eye as he killed him, strong enough to tell Mother when she was wrong, strong enough to travel without a briefcase, even, but when Vanya reached out and brushed her fingers along his forearm, he was weak. 

"Long day," was all she offered. He nodded, not knowing how to respond that he knew better than she understood how long the day had been. He swallowed against the words he wanted to say, things like "run away with me," and "trust me, I love you, I can keep you safe."

Because if she ever found out why he had to ask, she'd never trust him again. 

"Would you like some coffee?" she asked after a beat of silence, "you look half dead." 

He smiled at her, the expression pale and wan, and she must have taken that as assent, because she turned to make her way to the kitchen. He could see how the rest of the night would play out from there. Coffee, conversation, a pleasant kiss goodnight if he played his cards right, but the moment her fingers slipped from her arms, something inside of him seized. He couldn't let her go.

He caught her wrist, stopping her movement. She turned back, a question in her eyes, but Five didn't pause long enough to let her ask. She might slap him, she might kick him out and say she never wanted to see him again, how dare he betray her trust, but dammit, he loved her. If he never got anything else in his life, he would be happy to just have one moment with her. His mind was full of the images from the file that had been buried in his mother's filing cabinet, behind three locked doors and a guard dog he'd bribed with a piece of brisket marinated in a harmless sedative. Images of her, mid-explosion of power, looking for all the world like a vengeful goddess. Images of her in the aftermath, when the Commission was there to pick up the pieces and write down their handy statistics and bullshit findings, her bright white eyes staring out at nothing.

He needed to erase them. He needed her to live, if only for another night. 

He pulled her into a kiss that he knew would not rank high on any romance meter, but the moment she gasped against his lips he knew he'd never kiss another woman again. 

Rationality caught up to him and he pulled away, loosened his grip and let her feet touch the floor again. He hadn't realized he'd been so swept up in the kiss that he'd pulled her into his arms, but now shame was catching up to him. No matter how much he loved the feeling of her kiss burning on his mouth, he knew he shouldn't have let his irrational emotions take over, certainly not in a situation as delicate as this. 

"Sorry," he said, stepping back, "that was... forward," he cleared his throat. 

"Yes, it was," Vanya agreed, and Five felt his ears go scarlet. Her voice sounded breathless, though, and he couldn't help but feel a bit vindicated. He'd done that to her. He could do so much more, if time would allow. 

"I... ought to go," he said, realizing how thoroughly he might have just ruined everything he'd worked so hard on. He might have just given her all the ammunition she needed to tell him to leave and never come back. He made it three steps back to the door before her soft, shy voice floated over to him.

"Five?" He turned back, remembering the sound of her laughter when he'd first told her his name. There was a delicate flush on her cheeks and she was twisting a strand of her hair around her finger, but she was looking directly at him, her eyes never leaving his. "You sure you don't want to stay for coffee?"

"It's almost midnight," he croaked, hardly believing his ears. She smiled at him, almost coy.

"I know you, Five, you've probably got a thermos of the stuff waiting for you when you get home." he ducked his head with a laugh. She wasn't necessarily wrong, he did have a coffee machine with a timer that generally started his first pot at around two am.

"I'd love a cup," he admitted, and this time when she turned to make her way to the kitchenette, he let her, simply trailing after her to lean on the island and watch her work. When the machine was loaded, Vanya hopped up on the countertop next to him with a smile.

"How's it feel," she teased, "I'm finally taller than you." She was so close to him. He could feel the heat radiating off her skin, could smell the shampoo she used as her hair hung like a curtain, almost blocking the rest of the apartment from view. She was close enough that their foreheads could almost knock together. Close enough that if he wobbled, he'd be able to taste her again. She couldn't possibly know what it was doing to him, but all he could think of was defiling her kitchen countertops. It was quite a jump to make, from a first kiss in the living room, to fucking her in the kitchen... but then again, they were living on a timeline, whether she knew it or not. 

He smirked at her, trailed a fingertip along the outside of her thigh, just to see how she'd react. Not kicking him out might have been a good sign, but then again, he knew how lonely she was. She may just want a friend. He could be that, no matter how badly he wanted her.

"Gotta say," he admitted, "I don't mind the sight of you looking down at me." There was just enough heat in his words to ensure that no possible platonic meaning could be read from them. She shivered a little under his hand.

Emboldened, he shifted, let a few other fingers join the first, and tapped out a rhythm on her leg. The smell of coffee was starting to fill the apartment, but even that wasn't enough to distract Five from the way that Vanya's eyes darkened. 

"Five," she breathed. He _loved_ the way she said his name. It sent a curl of pleasure down his spine. She shifted on the countertop, and he couldn't help but wonder, couldn't help but hope, really, that he was able to affect her as much. A whole host of musing thoughts flitted through his head. If he moved his hand an inch or two, would he find that the silk of her shorts was damp? Would she be wet and aching for him? He wanted her to be. He wanted to make her feel better than anyone else in the world could ever hope to, even if said world didn't end in a few days. 

"Vanya," he replied, when it became clear she wasn't going to say anything else. He began tracing V's onto her skin. V for Vanya. V for Five. The muscles in her leg twitched under his touch. Her eyes were burning now.

"Since we're being so forward," she began again, and he hummed, even as he traced the V's higher up her leg, just to see her squirm. Just to see if she'd stop him, tell him he was being inappropriate. She dragged her teeth across her lower lip, and Five stopped watching her eyes, instead dropping his gaze to her mouth. She shouldn't be allowed to do that. It was positively sinful to watch. 

"Are we?" he asked, his fingers at the seam of her sleep shorts, his eyes still watching as her tongue peeked out between her teeth to lick her lips. He chanced a glance back up at her eyes as her breath hitched, half afraid he'd gone too far after all. She moved her leg at last, and the bottom of Five's stomach dropped for a moment, swooping down to meet his feet.

She hooked her leg around his hips and tugged him closer. He moved willingly.

"Yes," she said, sounding the most sure of herself he'd ever seen her. She gripped the hand that he'd been teasing her with, and moved it between her legs. "We are."

Five's heart stuttered in his chest. He felt as though he were on fire. He'd been so sure he'd never get this that for a moment, he was sure that he'd have no idea where to even begin with her. 

Of course, the moment passed, and he reached up to grip her by the back of her neck and pull her back down for a second kiss. This one was no less demanding or impatient than the first. He licked into her mouth ruthlessly, savoring the taste of her. She shifted on the countertop again, moving to get a better angle, and he obliged and stepped between her legs entirely. She reached up and cupped his face in her hands, gentle in spite of Five's own brutality. The movement trapped his hand between them and the way she moaned into his mouth at the sensation of his hand pressing against her cunt was more than enough to make Five ignore any fleeting thoughts he may have had about moving her to a more suitable location. She deserved to be fucked on a bed, yes. Deserved to be made love to and treated like a queen. But first, he was going to fuck her on every other surface her apartment had on offer. She wouldn't be able to look at any item of furniture in this place again without blushing or imagining his tongue against her skin. He was going to make her come so many times that he'd prevent the apocalypse by force of orgasms alone. She'd be so blissed out and fuck-happy that the date of the apocalypse would come and go, uneventful. Mother would be angry, of course, but Vanya was his now, and he'd keep her one way or another. 

**Author's Note:**

> Tasteful fade to black because uh,, brain machine broke.


End file.
